Private Journal of James Potter
by l'il blueberry muffin
Summary: James Potter has so much stress in his life, the only suitable way to express it is by composing a diary! Rated T for language. Please R


Private Journal of James Potter

Okay, let's get one thing straight first. This isn't a diary, or some damned thing that only a girl would spend hours writing. This is a JOURNAL, you hear me? Boys are perfectly entitled to writing journals, although girls should really stick to diaries.

You may know me. I screw up a bit every once in a while, my best buddy will always be Sirius, and I fancy Lily Evans, though Yolanda Smirkens is looking kind of hot right now.

I'm only kidding.

Okay, well, I guess I start off by writing what I did today. Well....

I got up to the birds chirping that morning. No wait, that sounds kind of stupid. Okay, I got up and walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth. This is a huge secret of mine, but then again this is a JOURNAL and I can tell you all I want to.

Here's my secret: I get up early every morning, round five, and start doing my homework. Afternoons I practice Quidditch. I know it's kinda stupid to do your homework at five in the morning, but I didn't want anyone to know that I actually _did_ my homework. Anyway, I usually don't finish my assignments and, well, I get zeros. You get the point. I'm sure you read that.... _J.L._ _Cowling_ version or whatever. You're just like anyone else, of course! You want more fantasy that she just inaccurately recorded.

After I managed to finish my History of Magic essay, I shoved everything into my bag and crawled into bed before anyone else saw me.

Unfortunately, Peter was also awake and was about to shout "JAMES!" like the big idiot he is when I threw a pillow at him. As expected, Peter screamed and woke everyone up.

I brushed my teeth again with everyone else in the tiny loo and we all changed to go down to breakfast.

Lily was there already, leafing through pages in the ratty old spellbook. I grinned at Sirius, who grinned at Remus, who grinned at the sky (Don't ask me why) and I lobbed my glass of milk toward her.

_Splash!_ Her spellbook was drenched in white liquid, and so were her robes. "JAMES POTTER!" she screeched, sending her book flying into the air. It landed on the Ravenclaw prat, Helleny, who got a faceful of milk and paper.

I got another detention, and Lily cleaned her robes in a flash. The detention was _so_ totally worth it.

After gulping down some porridge, wolfing down a strip of bacon, and draining my glass of pumpkin juice, I grabbed my bag and ran to Transfiguration. McGonagall, as sadistic as ever, called me to her desk after class to discuss punishment.

"James, this is your _fiftieth_ detention at Hogwarts," she said curtly, shuffling through papers on her desk.

"Does that mean we'll have a celebration?" I asked eagerly.

"No!" she said firmly, drawing a quill out of her pocket along with a small bottle of ink.

_James Potter, Sixth Year, Detention, _she wrote in teeny letters. I could just barely read it. _Spraying students with milk. First February, 1797_.

"Oh, well this is special," I muttered.

"Why?" McGonagall asked innocently, tossing me the strip of parchment.

"It's fifteen years ago that I first came to Britain," I answered smartly, grabbing the paper. "Bye, Professor."

I scooted out of the room and had just enough time to get to Divination.

Divination is my favorite class because Kettleburn, the teacher, is a real pushover. He'll do anything for you up till, "Hey, sir, can I kill you?"

Once I throat-punched him, but he blocked me with this shield spell. I asked him to teach it to me, but he flatly refused.

We opened our books to page eighty, where we started off with the mind reading. I stared at Sirius, my partner, for many minutes, and something finally started to take shape on his face. I scrunched up my face and read the words that formed cautiously. They read, and I quote, _James, you're such a prat_.

"Hey!" I whispered furiously. "I am _not_ a prat."

Sirius gaped. "You mean, it actually works?"

"Durrr!" I hissed. He read mine, and I was thinking, "You ass!"

Like all luck gone bad, Kettleburn chose that moment to walk past us and read our faces. It only took him like a second before he read my face. "James Potter!"

Let's just say that night I had a horrible date with a mop and a bottle of bleach.

It's like, twelve midnight now, so I'll just like.... stop writing, I guess.

See ya, JOURNAL.

Yours Untruly, James Hotter Potter.


End file.
